


Personal Effects

by demotu



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-08
Updated: 2008-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-13 18:18:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demotu/pseuds/demotu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On attending a funeral.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Personal Effects

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/writerinadrawer/profile)[**writerinadrawer**](http://community.livejournal.com/writerinadrawer/) , for the prompt "someone is caught doing something they shouldn't", with the added element of an arts and craft

It was raining, of course it was raining; it was Wales, after all, and anything less wouldn’t have been suitable. He pulled up beside the low fence, no curb, just gravel slowly sloping into dirt and grass, and climbed out of the car. His feet squelched in the mud as he hopped the fence and strode through the carefully mowed grass, the occasional flower, the trees and the headstones. A small huddle of people gathered beside a closed casket came into view, and he slowed his pace, drawing up beside the wet trunk of an oak. The rustle of wind through the leaves and the hush of the rain on the grass drowned out the ritual words of the vicar, but he didn’t need to hear them; they were familiar enough.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Neither should you.”

Jack stepped up beside him, arm brushing against his but no closer. Ianto looked over; Jack’s eyes were trained on the funeral, a weary look brushing his features.

“I come when I can,” Jack said eventually.

“It’s not even the real body,” Ianto pointed out. “Aren’t you worried they’ll notice that you attend so many of these things?”

Jack shook his head. “I just watch, like this. A bit of a penance, I suppose.” He spoke lightly, betraying the weight Ianto knew he felt in his heart for all those they couldn’t save. “Why are you here? I thought you usually attend the real burials.”

He did, at that. Ianto might have been surprised Jack knew and had never said before now, but Jack knew the value of silence as much as Ianto did, for all his talk.

“I wanted to return this,” Ianto said, reaching into his coat and pulling out the scarf he’d tucked inside, away from the damp. It was warm from sitting against his body, and the cheery oranges and yellows were vivid against the black of his coat.

“A scarf?”

“She was wearing it, when we found her.”

Jack furrowed his brow, reaching out a broad hand and twisting the wool around his fingers. Ianto pulled the end from Jack’s grasp and flipped it over, displaying the small tag, sewn into a corner.  
 _  
Made with love, by mum._

“Oh,” said Jack softly, staring at the words as if he’d forgotten what they meant. “I never think about…”

“That’s fine,” Ianto interrupted. “I do.”

 


End file.
